


One night stand

by orphan_account



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 21:18:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16026158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "You remind me of someone." His tone is regal, stuck-up in a way you're painfully familiar with. Perhaps it's the way your blonde hair curls around your face in a way your friends call stern, or maybe it's the sharp look on your eyes  that definitely don't help your case. "I thought I'd honor you with my company."





	One night stand

The week's been especially rough. You sigh as the alcohol burns down your throat, whisky on the rocks is a daring choice but you aren't really expecting anything but the buzz and drunken stupor.

  
Your friends chose the bar- a nice place,  the shallow lightning reflecting on your eyes as you take in the rich surroundings and the almost outrageous price on the card- just to end up canceling half-way through the afternoon. You picked your stuff and went anyways. " _It's not a good idea for a lone woman to go drink her night out"_ , fuck that. Whatever happens, you'll just order a cab home and sleep in like you deserve. You order a second glass as if to spite the voice of your co-worker when the stool next to you is occupied.

The man orders red wine, the name and brand is lost on you as you take his handsome profile, the sleek fashion and the gold adorning his fingers.

You're less subtle than you'd like, because he turns around and your breath stalls. Serpentine red eyes look at you up and down, he might deem you acceptable because his lips curl up in a smirk. He hasn't spoken up yet, but you already feel the want to clash those teeth with your own.

"You remind me of someone." His tone is regal, stuck-up in a way you're painfully familiar with. Perhaps it's the way your blonde hair curls around your face in a way your friends call stern, or maybe it's the sharp look on your eyes  that definitely don't help your case. "I thought I'd honor you with my company."

You chuckle, even if you're not sure it was a joke. "I'm very honored." Still, you play along and there's a chance you might, actually, be glad he's sitting next to you. You whisper your name the moment you drown half of your second glass, and he answers the same. A proud intone of Gilgamesh, like the great king you used to hear on lectures. It's likely that the alcohol is already getting to your head, because you don't think of it as a weird choice of name. You think instead that it's only fitting for him to be called a king.

His laugh is loud, loud enough to make you realize you said that out loud. He closes the distance before you can think of getting embarrassed, you can almost smell the wine he's drinking. He's paid for a whole bottle, but you wonder if you can take him home before he manages to make it worth.

 

  
The answer is yes.

His hands dig on your hips, he kisses hard and demanding. He takes, takes, takes- and you let him, gasping for air before his tongue meets your own and twists just right to make you moan for more. You can feel the grin on his lips before he goes further down, kissing your neck as if it belonged to him. You wonder if it's bad to actually want the marks he could leave on the pale skin of your body.

  
His hands are clever, working the zip of your dress open until it falls down to your feet somewhere on the floor of your room. You couldn't care less, your hands tug on the short strands as he kisses further down to the swell of your breasts, his teeth graze your skin softly- _he could never mistreat any of the treasures he collects._ The alcohol and the excitement tug on your belly at his words and his long fingers pressing in between your legs.  It burns in a way that leaves you gasping, your hands fall to strong shoulders and then toned back.

  
You're not new to pleasure, and he isn't really gentle, but he works you up just right until you clench your jaw and beg him to get the rest of your clothes off and get on with it already, _please_. And he indulges, because you've asked nicely enough and he's not as much of a cruel king as he is vicious.  

  
So, you fall into bed together. He takes off your underwear with the care one would have when unwrapping a present. He's still mostly clothed as he looks down at you whole and you shiver. You're vulnerable. He could tear your throat, eat you whole and you'd be encouraging him to keep going until he's satisfied. One look to your face and he understands, you're good, his smile widens. You'd like to worship him, see if he maintains his kingly demeanor or if he'll push into your throat, tugging on your hair.

  
Either way, you have a whole night to find out.

  
His hands are warm as he guides your legs open, caressing your thighs until he grabs and you like it. The way his fingers tighten on your flesh. He kneels above you and you notice just now how big he is when compared to the petite shape of your body. He probably likes it as much as you do, his lips attentive to your exposed skin, his tongue circling the shape of a perky nipple. A hand holding his own weight, while the other works on his pants' zipper. You have half a mind to look into your nightstand for you protection.

  
He's big, thicker than what you're used to. He allows you to touch, prepare him for what's to come, your fingers wrap around the length and pump until he groans. His voice is lower than before, a hint of feral but still commanding and proud. You don't need to be told twice.

  
You relax under his frame, hold onto him as he pushes and you feel him everywhere. Your legs shake as you take him and God- _he's good, good, so very good._ Your nails mark his back in a way you didn't intend to but it drives him on and harder. _You're such a good harlot, you squeeze around me just fine-_

  
Until it's over.

  
He pants above you, his breath against your own. He stares down at you, you probably look ravished because his eyes darken- _and you can keep going, don't you?_

  
You do.  


**Author's Note:**

> this is just  
> so self-indulgent  
> i might write something else if i feel confident (or thirsty) enough, anyways


End file.
